


Of Steel and Scarlet

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: (Like Literal Race - Not Skin Color), AU, Abduction, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Artificial Limbs, Clockwork - Freeform, Dirigibles, M/M, Mechanics, Racism, Steampunk, Trolls and Humans Living in One Society, Will Add More When Story Progresses, camps, davekat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You thought with the new age, things would be different. Blood color didn’t matter anymore, trolls weren’t seen as demons, and there were far more interspecies couples than the government ever thought possible.<br/>Sure, there were still problems, like all the coal pollution, but you thought that everyone was safe, that no one needed to hide. You thought that watching your friends die was over, that no one would chase the trolls anymore, that pain and hardship were a thing of the past. You thought Karkat was safe, that he... that he didn’t have to run anymore; that you didn’t have to protect him.<br/>The universe has a funny way of proving you utterly and completely wrong."</p><p>Steampunk DaveKat AU. There'll be other couples, since I have decided to continue this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Steel and Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to continue this, and will hopefully have the next chapter up by this time next week.

You thought with the new age, things would be different. Blood color didn’t matter anymore, trolls weren’t seen as demons, and there were far more interspecies couples than the government ever thought possible.

Sure, there were still problems, like all the coal pollution, but you thought that everyone was safe, that no one needed to hide. You thought that watching your friends die was over, that no one would chase the trolls anymore, that pain and hardship were a thing of the past. You thought Karkat was safe, that he... that he didn’t have to run anymore; that you didn’t have to protect him.

The universe has a funny way of proving you utterly and completely wrong.

_-oOo-_

You love to watch Karkat work. This look of concentration comes to his face when he has tools in his hands, lips set in a hard line, but scarlet eyes alight with inspiration. When he gets in one of his moods, his phases, he can sit at his workbench for hours, not minding sweat or cuts from the wires and gears. If you don’t stop him, he can work for days, and he wouldn’t even notice how much time was passing. His fingers are dotted with scars and grubby bandages, and he always seems to have smudges of coal and oil on his cheeks.

Sometimes he’ll put a record on in the corner (one of the ones you _haven’t_  scratched up), and maybe the sound of violins and cellos and pianos will drown out the sparking of clockwork and the clack of metal on metal, but sometimes it won’t, and the sound of Karkat working will be the only sound in the dingy flat you share. You actually like the nights when you can hear both the record and the whirring of springs. Nights like these, you’ll lay on the couch, arm over your eyes, and just listen.

Tonight is one of those nights: Karkat is hunched over his workbench in the corner, you're situated on the couch and something that sounds like Paganini is playing out of the record player. It's well after nightfall, probably into the early hours of the morning, when you pick yourself up from the couch, turning to look at your matesprit.

Yes, matesprit. According to new laws set, anyone in a relationship with a troll must use troll terms. You don't really mind, since you two aren't technically married, but you're more than boyfriends.

You find yourself smiling as you get to your feet, making your way over to Karkat, who is oblivious to your approach. He's bent over some clockwork engine, annoyedly trying to keep his inky-black hair out of his face.

You chuckle, pulling a leather throng from your waist-coat pocket. He jumps a little when you start running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pulling it back into a scraggly tuft at the base of his neck, but he keeps working, offering only a grunt in gratitude. You finish tying back his hair and settle on the bench next to him, leaning back against the table. He hardly casts you a glance, and you know he's in one of those “phases”. You better stop him now, before he becomes dead to the world. 

“Hey, Karkles, don't you think you've worked long enough?”

“I have to get this done for Equius.” Equius lives in a flat a few streets away with his wife, and works with automatons. Every now and then, he'll come to Karkat for fresh eyes on a particularly difficult assignment, though he won't admit that a troll so low on the hemospectrum is better at mechanics than him. You guess a lot of trolls still cling to the old hierarchy, especially the blue- and indigo-bloods. 

“When did he say he wanted it?” You don't even ask what it is he's working on; you'd tried understanding when the two of you had first met, but you quickly gave up.

“March fifteenth.” You look at the calendar hanging next to the wash basin, and frown. 

“Karkles, that's a month away.” Grunt.

You sigh, then face your matesprit, tucking your hand against his chiseled neck and turning his head towards you. He struggles against the movement for a moment, then wearily complies, his scarlet meeting your crimson, unbarred by the tinted half-goggles you usually wear. 

“Come to bed.” You say firmly. “You can finish later.” Oh shit, he's pulling his pouty face. “No, don't stick your lip out at me. And don't think I don't know you haven't slept in three days. Nocturnal shit aside, _you need sleep_ , okay?” He sighs, but sets down his tools and rubs at his eyes.

“How's a guy supposed to work with your ugly mug shoved in their face, Strider?”

“You know you love it, Kitten.” Your grin falters as he yawns, stretching his skin taut over his cheekbones. “Shit, Karkat. Why don't you tell me when you can't sleep?”

“I don't,” he pauses to yawn again. “want to bother you. ‘Sides, you need sleep too.” You exhale slowly, crossing your arms and looking to the floor.

“Nightmares?” You ask quietly. His shoulders tense, but his expression remains the same; he's learned well. “Kanaya has teas for that kind of stuff, you know.”

“Doesn't help.”

“What about--”

“Dave, stop it. I can handle it.” Grinding your teeth, you stand and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You're an idiot, you know that, right?” He doesn't give a response, though you didn't expect him to. “I'm going up, so come to bed soon.”

“Mm.”

“Karkat, I'm serious.” Your gazes connect again, and you know he'll listen to you. 

You smile softly, and lean in to kiss his forehead. “If you're not up in five minutes, I'm hiding your tools, got it?” You mumble against his temple; he just snorts.

“Like you could even lift any--” A peck on the lips silences him. You choose to indulge in the lengthy kiss for several moments, then pull away, grinning at his disappointed expression.

“No more ‘til you come to bed, Kittenmittens.” He scowls.

“Asshole.”


End file.
